


Pull the thread

by Iamari



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, cap 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1519121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamari/pseuds/Iamari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happens between when Steve wakes up in the hospital and when he gets the file from Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull the thread

“He looked right at me.  
He didn't know me...” 

The words slid around in Steve's mind; the medications they'd given him causing him to literally see them, shifting and moving behind his eyelids, changing size and shape and color as they moved in endless litany Until he couldn't stand the feeling and checked out of the hospital despite Sam and Tasha's objections. Despite the advice of his doctors. Steve knew he would heal, he always did. The difference was, this time he didn't want to. 

His apartment had yellow tape over the door; he tore it down and left the strips hanging as he let himself in. Glass and drywall and silvers of wood littered the floor. A long red smear of Fury's blood had dried to black in the hall. There were plastic bits and gauze left behind by the medics that had done everything they could to save the director. He stepped through the mess and made his way back to the bedroom, slumping down onto his bed; the picture of defeat. 

“You're my mission.” 

One bandaged hand reached out and snagged the framed picture off the night table near his bed. It was faded and wrinkled, not neat and new like the ones in the Smithsonian. But there he was, the man that only a day ago had done his best to kill him. Why he wasn't dead, Steve didn't know. He knew he fell, had watched the helicarrier exploding as blackness crowded his vision before he even hit the water. How he'd gotten out was apparently a mystery to everyone but Steve himself. 

“But I knew him.” 

Why? Why did he know this man whose face had smashed beneath his fist? How? Fragmented bits of long gone memories crowded in, leaving him confused. Watching Captain America fall, it felt like something was wrong. So wrong. A pain he didn't understand. A pain he hated. Hated with every fiber of his being, but was helpless against. Which only made him hate it more as he released his hold and followed the man into the murky green water of the Potomac. 

The weight tugged at his arm, but was there was no sensation of it, just the knowledge that it was there and the way his body reacted to it. Why was he doing this? It made no sense. Why was he failing his mission? Willingly? It didn't make sense, but something did. There was a feeling, an emotion, something that he couldn't ignore; after so many years without them, he couldn't ignore it. Up and out of the water, into the mud. That was enough. The man in blue would not die. He was strong, Winter Soldier had felt that. Still felt it in the dead wight of his right arm, the throbbing pain he'd long ago learned to dismiss. The damage to his body was irrelevant. Maybe this time he wouldn't say anything and they would let him keep that memory, that face until something clicked. 

“Even when I had nothing...” 

Steve knew it has been Bucky. He had to believe that. He had to because if he didn't believe he could save his friend, then nothing mattered. Living in a world where Bucky was alive, but not at his back wasn't a world he wanted to be in any longer. And quietly, almost silently, if only to himself, Steve had to admit part of him was disappointed he'd woken up in the hospital. Bucky was gone. For now, at least, but not forever. Steve would follow him however long it took, because that was all that mattered now. SHIELD was gone. Somewhere the Avengers were still out there. But until the world needed him again, he had something to do. 

Slowly he cleaned up, often lost in contemplation as he swept up the glass and dust. He watched silently as they replaced his windows. His wounds healed and in some ways he wished the scars had remained. At least then he would know it was real; he couldn't turn the television on, or listen to the news because it was just a reminder that it's all gone. 

Twice now he'd saved the country..and both times it cost him Bucky and he tries not to think about how it's not fair. He was glad he didn't have to tell Peggy he tore down everything she built. He'd already disappointed her once. 

He ran every day, getting his strength back and he thought it was Natasha or maybe Sam, but he didn't bother looking. Sometimes he wished they'd come out and talk, but most of the time he was glad they didn't because he didn't know what to say. He also didn't want to hear what they have to say. But it was Bucky's green eyes watching him from the brush, trying to jog his own memory back into place. 

Some days Steve went to Arlington cemetery and wandered the rows of white stones to the one he had placed for Bucky back in the day. Sometimes he just ran his fingers over the white marble, but sometimes he sat and just talked, quietly, for hours until the sun started to set. Slowly, he healed, but it wasn't the same. He called Natasha and asked for help. 

“You sure you want to pull that thread...” 

Steve would pull every string Every one he could find until it lead him to where he wanted to go. Every lead, every hint, every ghost story. Everyone. Until the end of the line. Because at the end, would be Bucky. And that was all that mattered for now.


End file.
